Nests Poems | Examples

Spring - What Are You Saying???

Birds are chirping and singing,
little ones in their nests are swinging.
Some are red and some just flew,
one went right by you.


Flowers are now awakening,
their pretty colors will be breathtaking.
Love them in colors of white~pink~yellow and blue,
a pretty site as we walk around the zoo.


Did you hear the big yellow bee?
His buzzing sound fills me with glee.
Is he after this fresh morning dew?
Will he drink it or will he chew?


Spring is saying be in love,
just like the loving turtle dove.
This time of the year brings all new,
from every point of view.

My Ears are Like Nests

My ears are like nests,
the thrill of sound,
surround sound of
so many worlds

the dove and the jay
the phoebe, the robin
…so many flocks

I don’t need to unlock
the meaning, it stirs
my soul, sends me

My ears are like nests,
beaks opening, my chest
heaving, relieving
the images of night
the -mares reprieving

the warbler, the wren
the skylarks, the sparrows
…so many flocks

In the Spring, to walk
upon the buoyant breath
of endless pines and oaks
to soak in the red breast
its soulful chest
rising and falling

My ears are like nests
the trill of sounds
awakening, stirring
the crown, rejoicing
in hope, succoring

Bird Gym-Nests

sparrows spare...ow's...
with their
wing-s-eyes for full-light... 

and...

bird brain differ-andt-says...
that their spe-sees well
past human percept-shuns...

so that...

their ups-downs and spirals spun...
show
wings without any attend-shuns...


stan sand

Un-Feathered Nests

The geese have migrated
taking many songbirds with them.

Some Canada Geese
have chosen to stay in the parking lots
by the busy shops, ensconced
within their un-feathered nests.

All day they direct the traffic,
attack cars if they come too near.

Night and day we Ohioans
try to ignore them,
but the geese
have fluffed up their goosy egos,
and will bar the way
of weary travelers
until they choose to waddle
disdainfully away.
Honk at them
and they honk back.

In Florida the songbirds
party-on
giving not a thought
to the still migrating,
still honking.

About Our Nests

Like little birds that at last leave the nest,
so too do our own little birds fly away.
When life’s lessons have barely begun to be learned,
they fly away to gain new experiences
and insights of their own.

Some will build very small nests 
and remain there without partners for many years.
Most will mate and through procreation,
they will create even bigger nests.
These days, even our own birdlings may choose
to stay in our nests much longer
than we might ever have anticipated.
If our birdlings leave, we are simply living again
in nests less crowded, as we had done
when we built our nest in the beginning!
Take it as a time to rejoice 
in new activities, and worry not!

Many of us will see our “empty” nests
fill up again 
as children of our children 
flock back to us for sweet reunions.

Nests, after all, rarely stay empty.

May 16, 2023
for Cooper Etheridge's Empty Nest Poetry Contest

Exotic Rubenesque Bubble Nests

colorful birds enjoy their apartment in the sky
exotic island-like Rubenesque bubble nests
fowls in a variety of gorgeous colors, reposing
their plain round grass huts show them off well.

Building Nests

(a poem in 2 Senryus)

We carefully choose
bits of our lives that we then
weave into stories.

Like birds building nests, 
making the safe places that
keep and define us.

Bubble Nests

Siamese

         F i g h t i n g

              Fish,

Bettas

         B l o w

              Bubbles.



10-31.2020

IN Just A Few Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May

Untitled

Still mourning dove nests,

safety for tenuous eggs.

Calm dove births her spawn.

Empty Nests

empty nesters watch
leaves skating on frozen ponds…
a soft sun beckons


©12/15/2019

Writing Challenge, December – Winter Haiku or Senryu
Sponsor, Dear Heart – Wiishkobi Ode

Last Year's Nests

Interlacing strands of love
were woven with such warmth and care.
I felt secure in your presence,
united by trust in the unity of our shelter
strengthened by the fibre of our hearts.
But that was yesterday,
before the pruning of my emotions,
the crumbling of the fabric of my being
leaving me vulnerable,
exposed to your cruel camouflage of lies
and the violation of our space
by a parasitic presence.
Old nests are seldom reclaimed.


30.11.19

Last Year's Nests Poetry Contest sponsored by Craig Cornish

Last Year's Nests

Tide out ...

Swells break far and creep slow,
sweeping tender 'cross washboard flats
where they used to dance -
where they lauded the ebullience of life
in purpose ... and pairs.

Beach ballerinas, flaunting perfect line ...
toothpick legs busy as Baryshnikov 'midst the billows,
leopard mantle still as stars
while they streaked and pattered forth-and-back,
never touching the hem of the combers.

Nature has no humor, they say ...
yet 'twas a game they played with the ocean's edge,
the sand they pranced was just as cold -
just as wet and wobbly and wild ...
it served no critical purpose to shun the wash in such diligence.

Yet they were masters of the art, and graceful,
as tho' it had been thus for eons ... and of course, it had.
That very game and dance is what I miss so dearly now,
tears disguised in the salt spray on my face,
as I pull another clump of plastic ...

From last year's nests.





~ 4th Place ~  in the "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.

Last Year's Nests

I viewed them the spring before – robins in our grass
and swallows flying circles around the front of the house.
Weeks later I spied their nests -
the swallows’ under an eave of our garage
and the robins’ hidden in a cluster 
of our pear tree’s lovely green boughs.
I wish to have seen the eggs the robins surely laid,
but their nest was too high up.

The swallows’ nest intrigued me more,
for I was able to easily witness the hatchlings’ progress.
Periodically the parent birds came to feed them.
Eagerly I’d step off my porch when I saw the parents
swooping down and then soaring back to the sky.
Sometimes they whizzed close by my head as if to scold me
for my curiosity in their offspring; I was a trespasser on my own land.

Next year I will await them, but I think they will not return.
Always the robins return, but knowing swallows as I do. . . 
their last year’s nest is sure to sit
 lonely and unvisited.

Nov. 24, 2019 for Craig Cornish's "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest
(this actually happened several years ago, and the swallows never returned)

Nests of Seasons Passed

In the trees, 
  high up catching every breeze
small twigs, dry grass, and leaves form the large drey,
  with stuffing from some cushioned chair pretended to be hay;
atop the forked trunks of mighty oaks
  a perch of squirrels gather against wintry pokes.
Encircling the trees in playful chase
  each independent life seek security and escape,
built-in a day, the nest is snug and tight
  protecting the gray creature from windy flight, 
fallen remnants of last year's nests
 lay on the ground, a dispersed mess
as new ones soon replace
 the error of past mistakes;
but now and then, a familiar little face peers in
the window at the wall seeking the warm within.
 



Craig Cornish Last Year's Nests
11/23/19

Last Year's Nests

Last year's nests lie there broken at my feet
as I recall when they were full last Spring
with gaping mouths to be the first to eat
and bird brains guessing what mama would bring.
Last year's nests seem good as any other
to mark the time that marched so quickly past
while we  pondered who was foe,  who brother,
in this rush to be first - at least not last.
Last year's nests turn to dust before my eyes
and await the new rain that will wash them
Hell bent to where the blue Pacific lies -
sadly their memory is growing dim.
It stands as true that nests have come and gone
while the warblers sing that they still live on.


11-5-19
Contest: Last Year's Nest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

• Short Nests Poems
• Famous Nests Poems
• Best Nests Poems
• Read Nests Poems
• Long Nests Poems
• Nests Quotes